The Gardens of Blackfell Read online

  ‘I’m...I’m...sorry..,’ she whispered, silent tears spilling down her cheek.

  Xander leant close to her and kissed her tear streaked face.

  ‘It’s going to be alright Tara.’

  The pain in her shoulder now started to bite and she winced, placing a protective hand over her injury. He pushed her hand gently aside and slipped her bra strap gently over her shoulder, providing relief from the biting strap.

  A spark of electricity passed between them and Tara stood up shakily, momentarily startled by the feeling.

  She brushed past him and mo Kst protectived unsteadily to her car but even to her eyes she could see that the car was un-drivable. Two driver side tyres had punctured and a slow but steady stream of smoke rose from the front radiator.

  ‘I’ll take you home Tara. Come. I just have a short call to make before we leave.’

  He put his arm round her and helped her into the deep luxurious seat of his car.

  ‘I’ll arrange for your car to be collected and repaired.’

  Cocooned in the air conditioned luxury of his car she felt grateful, a deep relief that someone was taking care of her.

  She started shaking, her shivers uncontrollable, shock setting in.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat and immediately noticed her trembling. He took off his suit jacket and covered her, reaching into the glove compartment and taking out a small silver flask.

  ‘Take a sip of this. It’ll work wonders.’

  She unscrewed the small cap and tipped the bottle back. The whisky slipped down her throat in a fiery stream and she coughed and choked but took another gulp of the fortifying liquid.

  ‘Keep sipping that Tara. It’ll get you over the worst of the shakes.’

  She did as she was told, taking another small sip and they set off.

  He pressed a button on the dashboard as he drove and Tara could hear the electric bleep of a phone number being dialled.

  ‘Yes Sir?’

  ‘I’ll be late getting to the airport, Martin. Another hour possibly. Keep the jet on hold.’

  ‘Yes Sir.’

  Another press of the button and the call was finished.

  Feeling better for the whisky, Tara managed a hushed apology,

  ‘I’m so sorry Xander. Please just drop me off...... I don’t want to hold you up.’

  ‘It’ll only be a short delay Tara – no big deal. I can travel with a clear conscience knowing that you’re safe and well.’ He smiled disarmingly at her.

  She couldn’t help smile back at him, the whisky having a fast and mellowing effect on her.

  They made the rest of the short journey in easy silence.

  As they approached the house she asked,

  ce.‘Where’re you going?’

  ‘My place in Italy, you know the place I wanted you to come and work on. I’ll be heading off for a few months.’

  Xander stopped the car in front of the house.

  ‘Come on. I’ll help you get settled.’

  ‘No really. Not necessary. You’ve done enough for me already.’ Her thinking was muddled and unfocused. She was finding it hard to concentrate.

  ‘Sorry, your whisky has gone straight to my head.’ She leant back against the head rest, trying to compose herself but only succeeding in making her shoulder pain flare and she winced once again.

  Without speaking, he left the car, moved round to her side, opened the door for her and scooped her into his arms. She laid her head against his shoulder, accepting his help, not sure if her shaky legs could hold her up.

  They reached to door and it was only then that Tara realised that she had left her bag with the house keys and phone back in the car.

  ‘Shit. I’ve left the keys in the car.’

  ‘No problem.’

  He kicked out at the door and it burst open, wood splintering from the frame and door lock.

  Tara yelled in fright and he smiled at her reaction.

  He set her carefully on the sofa and stood up, watching her closely.

  ‘I’m going to call a doctor... get you checked out.’ He fished the phone from his pocket.

  ‘No. No please. There’s no need I promise you. I’m all set to go.’

  He looked at her searchingly and then pushed the phone back into his jacket.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure Tara. I think you should take it easy for the next few days though.’

  He leant down and kissed her on the cheek and then stood up abruptly.

  ‘I have to go. I’ll be in touch.’

  He turned and walked towards the door. Tara leaned back into the sofa and sighed, the relief of being back home, safe and well, overwhelming.

  ‘< Kfonef span bgcolor="#ffffff">Tara?’

  He stood at the door watching her.

  ‘Please come with me.’

  His eyes were impenetrable, his emotions closely guarded but there was something in the tone of his voice that suggested his vulnerability.

  ‘Come with me now. Leave this behind for a short time and let me know what you think of my gardens in Italy. I promise you won’t regret it.’

  Confused and befuddled, his voice was almost hypnotic.

  ‘I......I.....,’ she stammered.

  ‘Don’t think it through. Come in the car with me now. Don’t think.’

  He closed the distance between them and took her hand.

  ‘Please.’

  And she found herself being lead out the door, stopping briefly on the porch, making one last effort to put the broken shards of her thoughts together and think this through.

  ‘My clothes. I need to pack.’

  He turned towards her and took her face between the palms of his hands.

  ‘I’ll sort it out. Just come with me.’

  She followed as if in a dream, Xander opening the car door and fastening her seatbelt.

  Tara’s head spun and an overwhelming desire to sleep overcame her. She was vaguely aware that he had started the car but that was the last she knew. She lapsed in and out of consciousness on the journey from the Estate to the airport.

  ‘Xander. What was in that flask?’ she murmured, her voice faint, her mind fuzzy and confused. Receiving no reply, she closed her eyes and slept.

  She slept uneasily, with frequent periods of waking but her waking state was dreamlike and it was a huge effort to keep her eyes open or concentrate. She was vaguely aware of being lifted out the car, out into the cool air. Fighting to keep her eyes open she saw the plane waiting on the tarmac but slumped into Xander’s shoulder, unable to keep awake.

  She was placed on one of the cool leather seats of the plane and she was covered carefully with a blanket. She heard voices intermittently, one of them Xander’s.

  ‘She’s been unwell. Let her sleep it off....’

  ‘Bill, collect her passport and have it sent on to me...’ Kn t<

  ‘Don’t disturb us......’

  She was aware only vaguely of her surroundings, a small luxury plane cabin. She was strapped into a deep, comfortable leather seat and Xander sat across from her, laptop at desk, on the phone but always watching her, as she lapsed in and out of consciousness.

  Gradually the fog began to lift, her thoughts becoming clearer but accompanying her newfound clarity of thought was a headache that made her rub at her temples and wince.

  ‘How’re you doing?’

  Xander knelt beside her and held her hand.

  She pulled her hand from him.

  ‘Did you put something in my drink?’ she asked him directly, her mind racing.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He laughed easily, ‘You were in shock and the whisky I gave you perhaps wasn’t the wisest thing I’ve ever done.’

  He stood up beside her.

  ‘Let me get you something for that headache.’

  He pressed a button beside his seat and a stewardess appeared instantly and almost before Tara could blink, was back with a glass of water and a couple of white tablets, which she placed on the h
ighly polished table in front of her.

  Grateful and desperate for relief from the headache that was threatening to escalate into a full blown migraine, she swallowed them down and then leant back into the seat and closed her eyes.

  She couldn’t believe that she was here on a plane, heading off to Italy with Xander Ashbrook. She must surely have been in shock before she had agreed to come out to Italy with Xander on what now seemed like a momentary whim.

  Thinking through the events of the morning, she sat bolt upright.

  ‘My passport!’ she exclaimed and then held her head in her hands.

  ‘Oh God Xander. I shouldn’t be here....I really shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what’s come over me.’

  ‘You’re here with me now and I promise you won’t regret it. Your passport and clothes have all been taken care of.’

  She shook her head and closed her eyes again.

  ‘You can leave whenever you want. I’ll arrange the flight home. The only thing I ask is that you give yourself a night to rest. You’ve not been well.’

  ‘Not well?.... I can’t understand. It wasn’t K. Il been tak a bad accident....I was a bit shaken but nothing as bad to cause me to ..to...knock me out.’

  His tablet bleeped and he glanced down to see who was trying to get hold of him.

  ‘I have to make a call Tara. You’ll have to excuse me.’

  He stood up, glanced at her and then kneeled beside her once again.

  ‘I’m here to take care of you. You can leave whenever you want but just take the time to get your strength back. We’ll be landing in about ten mintues.’

  Tara managed to smile at him but her heart was beating like a frightened rabbit.

  ‘That’s my Tara.’

  He kissed her cheek and left the main cabin, closing the door firmly behind him.

  With the cabin to herself, she gingerly stood up, the tightness in her head starting to abate but she still felt shaky. The cabin was luxurious: thick, cream carpet underfoot, a small table where Xander had been working, deep comfortable cream leather seats, small screen TV beside each seat. The glow from the concealed lighting was soft and warm.

  Tara stooped down to the cabin window and gazed out at the beautiful landscape below, a tapestry a green and gold, sea visible in the distance, a vibrant and dazzling blue.

  They must be descending: Tara could feel the pressure in the cabin change, the sound of the engines changing pitch slightly, having to work a bit harder.

  Her mouth was dry and despite the beauty of the landscape she was about to enter, all she could think about was her home, her lovely Scotland; the clear, cool air, the tranquillity and the simplicity of life that now seemed so far away. She sat back down, clicked her seatbelt and closed her eyes. She pictured herself back on the beach at her village, the waves lapping gently at the pebbled beach, the smoke curling softly from the chimneys of the cottages, the sound of the gulls swooping overhead. Being here felt wrong. She was trapped.

  11.

  The plane descended smoothly and yet Xander did not appear back in the cabin. For that Tara was relieved: she had been aware of his constant watchful presence in her altered state of consciousness on her journey from Blackfell. She slowly relaxed as the plane continued its smooth descent.

  The plane touched down with hardly a bump and Tara was surprised to see that it wasn’t a large airport they had arrived at but a small private airfield. She was surprised and slightly disconcerted to watch Xander disembark and climb into a waiting limousine without as much as a backward glance at the plane. N. Il d slighTara was perplexed and felt abandoned in this strange country with only the clothes that she stood in.

  The cabin door opened and the stewardess that she had seen earlier entered.

  ‘Madam. Mr Ashbrook sends his apologies. He has been called away on urgent business and has asked that you’re taken to his home. A car is waiting outside. Can I help you to the car Madam? I understand that you haven’t been well.’

  Taken aback she answered quickly, ‘No. No. I can manage myself thank you.’

  ‘Very well Ma’am.’

  The stewardess turned and left her, leaving the door open, her passage off the plane clear as the steps from the cabin were lowered to the tarmac. Tara could see another large limousine waiting for her a short distance from the plane. There was no passport control desk, police, security. Nothing. Just the limousine.

  Taking a last look around the plane she made her way to the door and down the short flight of steps.

  The warmth and floral scent in the air was overwhelming. There was very little noise: the metallic tick of the jet’s engines; the chirrup of cicadas. Tara felt as if she were in a dream, the warm sunshine dazzlingly bright, the intensity of the colours so different from the muted, subtle tones of the country she had left.

  She didn’t know exactly where she was. She was alone. And scared. She crossed the tarmac to the open door of the car because she had no choice. Where else could she go?

  Climbing into the back of the car, she huddled into the corner of the enormous leather seats. The glass between her and the chauffer was darkened and she couldn’t see anyone. The car moved off slowly and Tara felt like bursting into tears but she bit her tongue hard not wanting to show the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. She concentrated on the passing countryside.

  The car was climbing up a hillside from the private airfield, terraces of vines to either side of the road. The vineyards stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions. Climbing higher, Tara could now see their destination perched on the crest of the hill – a huge Tuscan castle overlooking the vineyard spread out beneath it.

  Feeling smaller than ever, like a visitor to an alien world, she hugged herself for comfort.

  The car reached the outer walls of the castles defences, the huge gates gliding open to let the car through. They progressed through a garden of such beauty that Tara thought that she must truly be dreaming but it was the castle that surpassed even the gardens.

  An ancient and immense castle villa spread before them. The stone was the local warm pink Tuscan sandstone, the roof tiles a deep traditional red tile. An older woman dressed in a black uniform stood at the huge villa doors waiting for them.

  The car cruised slowly up to the doors and stopped. Tara’s door was opened and the chauffer, who she saw for the first time was a young attractive man, extended his hand to help her from the car. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and smiled reassuringly.

  Taking his hand, she climbed from the car and into the warmth of the sunshine.

  In a heavily accented voice he spoke quietly to her,

  ‘Ma’am. Are you OK?’

  She shook her head and a tear slid down her face. This small act of kindness had released the well of unhappiness that now bubbled over.

  He went to put his arm round her but they were interrupted by the lady who stood on the steps who gently pushed the chauffer away from Tara.

  ‘Miss Applebee. Come. Your room is ready for you. I’m sure you must be tired after your long journey.’

  She took Tara’s arm, shot a reproachful look at the chauffer, barked something at him in Italian and led her into the house.

  The house was cool and immense and sumptuous. There was an enormous hall, medieval staircase climbing up the vast stone hall. Huge Persian rugs covered the highly polished floors, intricate tapestries hung on the wall but the place had warmth that belied its enormity.

  ‘This way Miss Applebee please.’ The woman still had her arm and was pulling her gently up the stairs.

  They left the grand hall from a door on the first floor gallery and entered a short corridor flanked by a number of large, wooden doors, ancient and with a warm, loved patina.

  ‘This will be your suite Miss Applebee.’

  She was shown into each room – a sitting room, a bedroom with an enormous bed with deep pillows and crisp linen sheets, a huge bathroom with a roll-top bath that she could almost swim in, a dres
sing room; dozens of ladies shoes for all occasions, evening dresses, skirts, trousers, all colour co-ordinated.

  ‘I understand Mr Ashbrook will be back early evening Miss. He has asked me to help get you ready for dinner.’ The woman smiled at Tara expectantly.

  ‘It’s not necessary, really. But thank you. I...I think I’ll be leaving soon. I won’t be at dinner.’

  ‘Miss Applebee. You don’t understand. I’ll help you get ready for dinner. I Sfor sizf Mr Ashbrook expects you to be ready, you should be ready.’

  She must have noticed the look of dismay on Tara’s face as she patted Tara’s arm gently and said, ‘Come with me. Mr Ashbrook has a whole room of clothes for you. We’ll find something that you’ll like. And of course, if you’re leaving, then you’re best to do it when you’re rested and have had something to eat. Come. Please Miss Applebee.’

  Reluctantly, Tara followed the woman.

  ‘Please. Tell me your name.’

  ‘It’s Maria Angeletta. Call me Maria.’

  ‘And please call me Tara.’

  ‘I don’t think Mr Ashbrook would like that so if you don’t mind I’ll stick with Miss Applebee.’

  Tara’s unease deepened. His control of everything in his life was absolute and now she was here, unable to leave, with no passport, money or even clothes. She had no phone, nothing.

  ‘Maria....I need to call home. Can you take me to a phone please?’

  ‘I’m sorry. There’s no phone in the house.’

  Tara was astonished.

  ‘I can hardly believe that a businessman like Xander Ashbrook wouldn’t have a phone in his home. He...’

  ‘Of course, he carries a phone on his person but he prefers not to have any interruptions here. It’s a place of retreat for him.’

  Tara’s mind raced.

  ‘What about the chauffer? I’m sure he might have a phone...... He must need it for his job...’

  Maria stopped in her tracks and turned towards her and took Tara’s hands in her own.

  ‘Miss Applebee. I’ve worked here for a very long time, even before Mr Ashbrook was the owner. Mr Ashbrook has never brought a young lady here. As I said, it has been hisescape from the world. You must be someone very special to him before he has gone to such trouble for you. He has bought the very best clothes and shoes for you, flown in the best chef and kitchen staff from Rome and.... and...yet..... you seem to want to leave, seem uneasy and nervous. Please don’t worry. You make a beautiful couple.’